


Aftermath

by ria_oaks



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Permanent Injury, post aos season 2 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 20:53:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4850153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ria_oaks/pseuds/ria_oaks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing scene from the Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D season 2 finale, sometime between the climax and the final scene with Jemma. Phil/Clint established relationship.</p>
<p>Phil is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s endured torture – not to mention death – and he can deal with this. And he knows that he will, eventually. But right now he can feel the ghost of a hand he knows is no longer there, and the reality of what happened hasn’t quite sunk in yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Most written immediately after the season 2 finale aired, then languished on my hard drive for a few months. Season 3 starts in a week, though, so time to brush it off, finish it, and get it posted! Thanks to my friend Andrea for doing a beta read.

Phil is still in the hospital when the phone rings with Clint’s daily call. He doesn’t answer it right away. He knows that he needs to talk to his husband, Clint deserves to know what’s happened. But Phil is still processing and he’s honestly not sure if he’s ready yet.

He had passed out in the quinjet somewhere en-route back to the Playground and woken up a couple of hours later in the hospital wing. His arm, or what’s left of it, had been wrapped tightly in bandages and was throbbing dully. Phil hasn’t looked at it too closely since.

That was about two hours ago, by his estimation. He’s tried to leave a couple of times already, there’s too much to do to waste time lying around. He had almost made it to the end of the hall last time before being waylaid by a couple of nurses and a very insistent Simmons, who marched him back to bed and jammed an IV into his arm. It’s been less than ten minutes and he can feel the drugs working their way through his system. His arm hurts less, but he hates the fog that’s creeping over his mind.

The phone goes silent for a beat then starts to ring again. It’s probably just Phil’s drugged imagination, but the ringing seems increasingly impatient and he knows he should answer it. It’s not easy being married when one person is the Director of an underground (and officially disbanded) spy agency and the other person is an Avenger, but they’ve been making it work as best they can. Daily phone calls, when possible, help with the knowledge that their circumstances don’t let them see each other nearly as often as they would like.

Five rings, six – Phil can’t put him off any longer. The phone is on the bedside table to his left, and he instinctively reaches out to grab for it. It takes him a moment to figure out why nothing is happening, and then he sees the stump and bile rises in his throat. He swallows it down and rolls over carefully to grab the phone with his right hand.

“Clint.” He settles back against the pillows and focuses his gaze on the opposite wall.

“Hey Phil." Clint’s voice is warm in his ear and the tension in Phil’s shoulders eases slightly. “You make it back in one piece?” His words are casual, but Phil can hear the edge underneath. They always try to let each other know when they’re about to head into a dangerous situation and today was no exception. Clint knew at least some of what was happening with Gonzalez and the Inhumans, as much as Phil had thought safe to tell him. Clint understood the stakes and what they were up against, even though he hadn’t been directly involved.

“The situation is stable. The threat is contained for now, at least.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Phil never could get anything by Clint, the man was smarter than he gave himself credit for.

“I’m…” he hesitates, weighing the best way to tell Clint. He can’t keep something this big from his husband for long, and ever since his death he had promised Clint honesty. “There was an… incident.”

“What kind of ‘incident’?” Clint’s voice is sharp.

Phil sighs and lets his eyes drop shut. The pain meds are making him drowsy, but he needs to stay awake awhile longer. He recounts the events briefly. He’ll file his official report later, and Clint has the clearance to read it if he wants to. Not that clearance levels mean much anymore, not since Hydra.

“There wasn’t time to think about it. I either let it fall and we all die, or I catch it before it hit the ground. I caught it.”

Silence stretches out between them, and Phil can practically hear the gears turning in Clint’s head.

“But you told me before that if someone touches one of those crystals they either die or they become an Inhuman, or whatever they’re calling themselves.”

“Well, I definitely don’t have superpowers,” Phil responds drily. He regrets being flip a second later. Clint’s voice is equal parts angry and worried.

“Phil, what happened?”

“Mack saved me. It was just my hand petrifying but it was spreading quickly. He did the only thing he could before it was too late.”

The drugs are starting to pull him under now. His head is swimming and he can’t seem to force his eyes back open.

“How much?” Clint’s voice is soft now, barely more than a whisper.

“Just below the elbow. Left arm.”

“Jesus, Phil,” Clint breathes out.

Sleep is tugging at him and he can’t fight it any longer. “I need to go.” He’s pretty sure he's slurring, too. “They’ve got me on the good stuff; I can’t feel a thing… I’ll call you later, ‘kay?”

“What are the base’s coordinates?” Clint’s voice sounds like it's coming from miles away, not right next to his ear. “Phil! Stay with me for a sec. The coordinates. What are they?”

Phil rattles them off automatically. He’s not sure why Clint needs them, and somewhere in the back of his mind he remembers that it’s supposed to be a secret base, but he’s barely hanging on to consciousness and he doesn’t have the energy to question it. He trusts Clint, and it's long past time since he should have told him.

“Good. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

The line goes dead and Phil spares a moment to think ‘wait, what?’ before the world goes black.

****  
When Phil wakes up there is someone else in the room. He tenses, his eyes still closed as he assesses the situation. He’s in the Playground's medical wing and he knows it should be a secure location, but a lifetime of instinct is hard to break.

“Relax, Phil, it’s just me.”

Clint. The tension abruptly drains from Phil’s body. Clint shouldn’t be here – they have rules about this, they had a plan – but right now he doesn’t care. He opens his eyes and turns to Clint with a smile. “Hey.”

Clint is sprawled in a chair at his right side. He’s clearly been here awhile; there are two empty coffee cups on the bedside table and a newspaper opened to a half-done crossword puzzle lying on his lap.

“How long?” Phil's mouth is dry from the medication and it comes out raspier than he expects. Wordlessly, Clint hands him a paper cup of water.

“You’ve been out about eight hours according to the doctors. I’ve been here for six.”

“That was fast. Weren’t you supposed to be on a mission in Venezuela?” There had been some kind of slime alien; Clint hadn’t gone into details when he last called, other than to tell Phil that the entire thing was disgusting and he just wanted to get home and shower for three hours.

“All taken care of, Thor is taking the slime alien back to whatever planet slime aliens come from. It wasn’t hostile, just confused and… very gross. Anyway, we were almost back in New York when I called. We touched down, I had a very long shower – because I love you, but seriously Phil, the slime – and then I borrowed the quinjet and flew here.”

“Borrowed, huh? Did you at least remember to tell the others you were leaving before you took off?” Phil can’t help but be amused. Clint has always done his own thing. Even as part of a team he doesn’t always remember to let others in on what’s going through his head.

Clint shrugs. “I sent a message to Cap after I left. They’re all busy trying to scrub green goo off themselves anyway. More importantly, how are you?”

Phil’s first instinct is to brush off the concern and assure Clint that he’s fine. He’s the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., he’s endured torture – not to mention death – and he can deal with this. And he knows that he will, eventually. But right now he can feel the ghost of a hand he knows is no longer there, and the reality of what happened hasn’t quite sunk in yet.

“I’ve had better days,” he admits.

“Phil…” Clint leans forward and enfolds Phil’s right hand in both of his own. “You don’t have to pretend. If this had happened to me…” he trails off. “I don’t know how I would get through it.”

The thought of Clint never able to use a bow again makes Phil’s chest tighten. Phil can get by with one hand. He can still shoot a gun with his right hand, and he has the resources to make a prosthetic that should give him at least some function with his left. But even the most advanced prosthetic, like the one he had seen in photos of the Winter Soldier, can't replace the finesse of a human hand that Clint needs for archery.

He squeezes Clint’s hand. “I’d help you.” Just as he knows Clint will do for him, and that confidence born of nearly ten years of marriage helps to ease his own fears. They have faced worse together during their years in SHIELD, not even mentioning the aftermath of Phil’s death. 

“I’ll be ok. It’s going to take some adjusting and I won’t lie to you and say I’m completely fine with it, but I’ll make it through.” He pauses. It’s weakness, maybe, but he hasn’t seen Clint in a couple of months and the distance is taking its toll. “Are you able to stay for a few days?”  
Clint snorts. “I’m not going anywhere, Phil. I’m done with this long distance thing, I’m staying here.”

“The Avengers need you, Clint.”

“The Avengers have a Norse god and Captain America. You need me, sir.”

The ferocity in Clint’s voice warms Phil’s heart. “You don’t need to call me sir now, you know. You’re an Avenger. You’re not even technically part of SHIELD anymore.”

“With all due respect, sir, that’s bullshit. I’m still an agent of SHIELD, or what’s left of it, and you’re the Director of SHIELD.” He grins and there is a glint of heat in his eye. “Plus, I like to call you sir sometimes…”

Phil chuckles. “Don’t think I’m quite up to anything like that yet, but point taken.” He extricates his hand and reaches up to cup Clint’s jaw. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah. Me too,” Clint says quietly as Phil draws him down into a kiss. Phil loses himself in the soft press of lips, the familiar taste of Clint and the feeling of stubble scratching against his own. It’s been far too long, and Clint’s right. The time for secrecy and distance is past. It’s time to rebuild SHIELD, and he doesn’t want to do it without his husband by his side.

A cough sounds from across the room and they break apart reluctantly, Clint lingering as he pulls away with a gentle tug of his teeth against Phil’s lower lip. Simmons is hovering in the doorway, a roll of bandages in her hands and an embarrassed look on her face.

“Sorry to, ah, interrupt, sir. It’s just, it’s time to change these.” She holds up the bandages, looking like she wants nothing more than to bolt from the room. Phil takes pity on her.

“That’s alright, Agent Simmons, come in. Clint, this is Jemma Simmons, our lead biochemistry expert. Simmons, this is – ”

“Yes, Hawkeye – I mean, Clint – Agent Barton. It’s very nice to meet you.” She smiles tentatively.

Clint leans back in his chair but doesn’t stand up. His hand drops down to rest on Phil’s, a reassuring weight that promises he isn’t going anywhere.

“Simmons, yeah, Phil’s told me about you.”

“I’d say likewise, but honestly I didn’t even realize the two of you knew each other.” The look she shoots Phil is a thinly veiled accusation.

“I prefer to keep my private life, well, private.” Phil wasn’t going to be ashamed for his decision not to introduce Clint to his team. It had been their mutual decision to keep things separate since the Battle of New York. Fury had needed Phil’s revival kept a secret so he would have the freedom to put together his team and stay as far from the public eye as possible. He had conceded, reluctantly, that Phil should at least tell his own husband that he was alive, but beyond that it was safer if the world thought Phil Coulson was dead. Clint had the Avengers now, and Phil had his team. They talked regularly and saw each other when they could, but they had never considered their personal lives to be anyone else’s business.

“Well, yes, but…” Simmons visibly falters for a moment then seems to regain confidence. “We’re a team! You didn’t think you should mention that you’re dating Hawkeye of all people?”

“Married, actually,” Clint pipes up beside him and Phil sighs inwardly. Definitely not a secret anymore.

“What?” Simmons gapes at him then lets out a nervous laugh. “Seriously?”

“For nearly ten years now.” No point in trying to keep it quiet anymore, the news would be all over the base soon. There were probably already rumours spreading as peopled wondered why an Avenger would turn up at their secret base and spend six hours at their Director’s bedside.

Simmons blinks and shakes her head. “Wow, that’s… wow. I had no idea.”

“That was kind of the point. The fewer people that know about us, the less chance anyone can use our relationship to their advantage. Now, you said something about bandages?” 

“Oh, yes.” She holds up the roll. “I didn’t want to wake you up before, but they should be changed now.” She’s moving towards the bed when Clint stands up abruptly and holds out his hand.

“Can I?” 

She stares at Clint’s open hand then shakes her head. “I’m not sure if that would be best, we need to make sure it’s done correctly to avoid infection. No offense, of course,” she adds.

“I’ve dressed Phil’s wounds in way worse situations, believe me. I know what I’m doing.”

Simmons flicks a questioning look over at Phil and he nods.

“It’s fine, Agent Simmons, I trust him.”

She holds his gaze for a beat then hands Clint the bandages. “I’ll be outside if you need anything.” She turns and heads towards the door, then pauses and looks back. “And sir?”

“Yes, Agent Simmons?”

“I’m glad you’re happy. I was just surprised, but it’s good that you have someone.” She smiles slightly, something indecipherable crossing over her face, and then she’s gone.

“So I guess the cat’s out of the bag, huh?” Clint remarks.

“Apparently so. Do you mind?”

“Phil, I wouldn’t have tracked you down to your secret base and charged in through the front door if I was worried about what people might think about our relationship.”

Phil chuckles, imagining the scene. “I’m sure you gave everyone a shock.”

“Oh yeah, you should have seen the looks on their faces when they realized who I was. They let me through real quick once they clued in.” Clint moves to stand at the left side of the bed and lays a hand on Phil’s arm. “I better get this done. You ready?”

Phil grits his teeth and nods. He’s not worried about the pain, but he still doesn’t particularly want to see the damage underneath the bandages.

Clint is gentle as he unwraps the bandages and cleans the wound – the stump. He stays quiet, not judging Phil for keeping his head turned away the whole time. Clint is the only person in the world who Phil would be comfortable showing such weakness in front of, and he’s grateful. He’s by no means a squeamish person, and he’s seen far worse injuries before without flinching, but this is different. It’s more personal, on a level he hasn’t experienced since he had learned the truth of what Tahiti did to him.

It isn’t long before Clint is finished and Phil lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Clint moves back to his right side and perches on the edge of the bed.

“Well, look on the bright side – now you can get a bad-ass bionic arm. You know, if we tell Stark you’re alive then I bet he would make something for you.”

Phil groans. “Oh god, please no. It would probably shoot lasers or something ridiculous like that. Or it would make me fly.”

“What, you don’t want a laser-shooting bionic arm that lets you fly?” Clint grins and Phil feels something in his chest loosen. He reaches up and tugs Clint down for a brief kiss.

“If he can restrain himself from building weapons or pyrotechnics into it, then I’ll consider it.” Truth is, Stark may be a pain in the ass but Phil knows he won’t find anything better at SHIELD.

“Seriously?” Clint stares at him. “So we’re telling them?”

“This has gone on long enough, there’s nothing to be gained by keeping them in the dark any longer. I’m the Director of SHIELD now, they’re going to find out eventually.” The only other Avenger who knows is Natasha, because Clint refused to keep it a secret from her, but Phil knows that she isn’t happy about the situation.

“And… us?” Clint sounds uncharacteristically hesitant.

“It's all over the base by now, I’m sure. No reason to deny it anymore. If anyone has any issue with it, well…” he shrugs.

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. To be honest, Phil isn’t sure exactly how this is going to work, but right now he’s just enjoying the comfort of Clint’s presence. He feels more relaxed now than he has in months, in spite of everything. They’ll figure out a way to let Clint stay on base and be a part of SHIELD again without completely giving up the Avengers. Whatever Clint says, Phil knows that the work he’s doing there is important and he doesn’t want him to have to choose between them.

“So it’s true then, huh? I didn’t believe Simmons when she told me.” Phil looks up to where Skye is leaning in the doorway, a knowing smile on her face. "Damn, AC. You're married to Hawkeye? Good job."

Phil raises an eyebrow. "I'm not sure if I should be flattered or insulted, so... Thanks, I guess?"

“Hey, I’m just saying. I mean, Hawkeye! I’ve seen the footage from New York, and those arms…” she trails off. 

Clint grins, and Phil swears that he flexes his biceps just a bit. "I think I'm going to like her," he remarks. 

Phil just laughs and shakes his head. Between the two of them, he suspects it's going to be an interesting few months. He's looking forward to it.


End file.
